


sit me down, shut me up

by sophieisgod



Category: Fresh Meat (TV)
Genre: Belts, Character of Color, F/F, Female Character of Color, university students being idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-18
Updated: 2011-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophieisgod/pseuds/sophieisgod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Vod calls bullshit, Oregon may or may not have seen Cruel Intentions 2, and also, there are belts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sit me down, shut me up

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't warned for dub-con up in the tags, but there is some doing-things-without-talking that goes on which could be read as sketchy given that someone's all tied up with belts, so. YMMV, read carefully.
> 
> I'm blaming aragons for this in an attempt to shame her into writing the sequel, and you should, too.

“Fucking bullshit,” Vod says when Oregon starts in on Thailand Lars and his bloody tantric knotting skills, because as if, right, she has had just about e-fucking-nough of this, and next thing she knows she’s flat on her back on Oregon’s bed and Oregon is yanking her belt out through its loops.

“Hands up,” Oregon says and Vod does it, mostly to see at what point Oregon’s going to give it up and admit she’s a total fucking liar. Only then her wrists are looped together with her own fat belt and lashed above her head, tied to the bars of the bed with Oregon’s skinny one, and Oregon’s sitting across her hips, weight back on her heels and looking mightily fucking pleased with herself.

“Christ,” says Vod, “were you in the Scouts or what?”

“Guides,” says Oregon, and bites her lip. “I was, er, a Young Leader. Camping and stuff, you know.”

“Right,” says Vod, “not really,” and Oregon says, “Right, no, of course.”

“Christ,” Vod says again.

“It was mostly for the UCAS points,” Oregon says, and then she’s talking about the Duke of Edinburgh for some reason so Vod stops listening. She’s actually tied pretty fucking tightly; she moves her wrists, tugs about a bit, but there’s barely any give at all. Not bad, Oregon, not bad; maybe there’s something fucking in it this time, right, in the stuff Oregon says when she’s nervous, maybe old man fucking cunt Shales is some kind of Japanese rope bondage master and he and Oregon just spend tutorials tying each other up all over his office. Jesus.

She strains a bit harder at the belts, arches her whole body into it, and all at once Oregon stops talking, makes this noise that’s almost a squeak and goes completely still, still pressed up against Vod’s hips.

That’s a definite reaction, is what that is.

“You all right there, Oregon?” she says deliberately, and Oregon doesn’t say anything, just lets out a “Mmhmm!” from behind her teeth, so Vod does it again, properly rolls her hips this time and watches.

And there it is.

“Oh, shit,” Oregon gasps, and leans forward all in a rush to kiss Vod, and it’s intense like Oregon is about the weirdest things, like toothpaste, and cereal, and being on time for lectures, Oregon’s kissing her like she’ll have a stroke or something if she stops.

And it’s – it’s not bad, actually. Not half bad, so Vod doesn’t say anything, guesses it’ll only take about thirty seconds for Oregon to sit up and freak out, and it’s not as if there’s much Vod can do about it anyway, all immobilised and everything. With the belts. So she opens her mouth, and lets Oregon clutch at her, hands hard on her waist, and maybe shoves her hips up a bit more.

Vod reckons it’s a bit more than thirty seconds, all told, when Oregon stops sucking on her tongue, bites at Vod’s lip, ow, and sits up – only she doesn’t freak out. The expected freak-out, Oregon bright red and babbling, is not happening. What _is_ happening is that Oregon is pushing up Vod’s tatty vest, past her tits and all the way up over her head, until it’s hanging stupidly behind her, dangling off her arms. Jesus.

“Oi!” Vod says.

Oregon freezes; she’s halfway through whipping off her own jumper, hesitates for a moment with it still up over her head so Vod can’t see her face before she pulls it back down, covering her bra and everything else.

“Sorry,” says Oregon, “sorry, is this not –” and Vod’s mouth feels dry so she licks her lips.

“Did I say stop?” she says, and Oregon’s eyes go wide at that. Vod licks her lips again.

“Should I just – do you want me to?”

“Go for it,” Vod says, because why the fuck not, at this point, and Oregon says, “Right,” and pulls off the jumper. Vod gets another look at her bra and it’s really nice, it’s got bits of ribbon on it.

Oregon lets out this shaky breath and reaches forward, runs her hands up Vod’s stomach, which goes all kind of shivery. And then she’s got her hands on Vod’s tits, right, and Vod’s nipples are hard even before Oregon brushes her thumbs across them. It’s not even that cold in here, they’ve tricked JP into paying for all the central heating, so it must just be this, must just be the way Oregon’s looking at her, curious, like she can’t decide what she wants to do next. But, like, in a good way.

“Oregon,” Vod says, and it comes out all admiring, “you kinky bitch.”

Oregon smiles, thumb sliding down under the curve of Vod’s left breast, smiles like she likes the sound of that and says, “Yeah, I am a bit,” and _pinches_ her, bloody hell. If Vod wasn’t tied to the fucking bed right now she’d pull Oregon down to her, get both arms around her neck and give her a proper, messy kiss, but Oregon’s mouth is doing other stuff now anyway, stuff involving her tongue and Vod’s nipple, so Vod stops straining to look at her and just lets her head fall back against Oregon’s pillows. Oregon has a lot of pillows.

When Vod is breathing hard and arching up into Oregon’s mouth, belts tight against her wrists, Oregon puts both hands on her ribs and starts sort of biting and licking her way down Vod’s body, taking her time, in this way that’s making Vod really fucking impatient.

“Up,” Oregon says, when she finally gets to the button on Vod’s jeans, and when Vod lifts her hips, wriggling a little bit to help, she just yanks them down and off; she leaves Vod’s knickers on, though, doesn’t touch them, and Vod sort of wants to point that out, suggest that maybe they could get things moving along if she just – only Oregon’s hopping down to the floor to get rid of her own jeans just as quickly, and right, of course, they already lost their belts. Well, maybe not lost, exactly, that isn’t the right word, because Vod is all too fucking aware of what they’ve done with the belts.

Oregon’s knickers match her bra; they’ve got the same nice bits of ribbon on them. Vod barely even gets a chance to look, though, before Oregon’s climbing back on top of her, and fuck, that’s hot, Vod can, like, _feel_ her, through the two little bits of cloth. Oregon shifts about a bit, face scrunched up like she’s concentrating, and Vod rolls her hips up again, can’t help it, because everywhere they’re touching feels really fucking good, like, her fucking thighs are tingling. And then Oregon finds whatever it is she’s looking for, gives this little sigh and starts rocking against Vod in earnest, and it feels even better, deliberate like nothing Vod’s ever done before.

“You should,” Vod starts, and clears her throat because her voice sounds all hoarse and weird. “You should take your bra off.”

Oregon stills, flushing almost the same colour as the streaks in her hair, and Vod clears her throat again and says, “For, like, equality and that.” She can’t really gesture to her own bare tits, because, tied up, but it seems like Oregon gets the message, reaching behind herself to unhook her bra, chucking it on the floor, ribbons and everything, and, god. Vod wants to trace the curves with her thumb like Oregon did for her, so much that she actually fucking forgets about the belts for a second, strains at them hard enough to hurt, and Oregon makes this _noise_ , and then they’re in fucking business.

Vod honestly has no idea where Oregon learned to do this, whether she had sexy horseriding lessons like in _Cruel Intentions 2_ or if it’s a Guide thing, like rubbing fucking sticks together in the woods, but this, this wet friction, it’s building under her skin, and she just, she’s going to –

Oregon leans forward, hips still moving, Jesus _Christ_ , gets her hands on Vod’s skin again and slides them up, stroking. Her hair falls down around her face and she’s really fucking pretty, nipples all tight and pink, and Vod can feel her own hair damp at the temples, her own breath coming harsh and fast. Her shoulders are aching now but she braces herself as best she can anyway, plants her feet flat on the bed and stretches up, gets her fingers around the bars and holds on. She wants to close her eyes and she wants to keep them open, because who knew, right, who knew this about Oregon?

Because the thing is, the thing that is becoming all-too-fucking-clear to Vod is that Oregon might wear nice underwear with nice bits of ribbon on it, but she is not a nice girl, not even close. Vod’s back arches impossibly further as Oregon pinches her again, Jesus, pinches and _twists_ and works her other hand down between their bodies, where Vod can’t speak for Oregon’s nice knickers but her own are a sodden mess, the drag of the wet fabric against her feeling almost as good as the thing Oregon’s doing with her hips, faster now, with some serious fucking intent behind it, eyes closed and mouth fallen slightly open. It’s like – Vod feels like one of the guys whose names she’s forgotten, one of the ones she’d wrapped herself around for ten minutes in a corner and then wandered away from after, watching Oregon like this, and it’s – it’s really fucking hot. It’s sweaty, and brilliant, Vod’s going out of her mind here a little bit thinking of the things she’d be doing with her fingers if she wasn’t tied up, things that’d make Oregon open her eyes and pay attention, and Oregon might not be a nice girl but she’s just, seriously, way too good for old man fucking cunt Shales.

“Oi,” Vod says, and Oregon either doesn’t hear her or she’s beyond giving a shit, so Vod says it again, louder, and then she says, “Fucking kiss me,” and Oregon’s eyes fly open.

“What?” she says, looking all glazed, and Vod licks her lips and says, “You heard.” Oregon almost falls forward, kisses her hard and gasping, kisses a biting trail up her cheek, kisses her ear all hot and sloppy, and it’s good, it’s so good, it should be weird that it’s this good, and when Oregon shudders against her, makes this noise like she’s surprised, Vod thinks, join the fucking club, mate.


End file.
